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Thursday, August 19, 2010

Judaism (and the Web) Saved Me

I've wanted to write a book for a long time. My desire to write a book (i.e., get a book deal) has only been ramped up by the fact that my Social Media life has really taken a positive upswing (my greatest pride is connecting converts to one another and to helping converts find a positive space to thrive). I have no idea where to begin, and I don't even know if I have the time to do such a thing. I already figure that a second book would be in order after we make aliyah (okay, a girl can dream, right? Tuvia, you reading this?).

The other day, on a bus ride home from the city where I got to hang out briefly with the illustrious @EstherK, it came to me. A book title and a rough abstract (at least for half of it). So, I give to you, daringly, something I wrote on a NJ Transit bus a few days back. Let me know what you think. Oh, and if you know a book person, hook a Jewess up.

No pull is greater than the pull of belonging. Having some little corner in a greater universe to call your own is to be comfortable, at ease, happy.

When I came to Judaism, I was depressed, alone, and without a place to claim a niche. I was wandering, and emotionally and mentally it was to a most dangerous place. I’d spent my entire childhood attempting to figure out the universe, feeling aged beyond years even as a Tween, and in high school attempting to plan out my own end. The world was too big. It was too much. And I didn’t belong anywhere. I fit into no puzzle, no square hole or round hole or Christmas Tree-shaped hole. I couldn’t take it, and no one was going to stop me from taking it by the horns. I threatened suicide once. Late at night. My world came crashing down at the age of 16. And then, it was like it never happened. My parents forgot, my friends forgot. I didn’t forget. I got better, I told myself. I didn’t need meds, and I didn’t need a doctor. No shrinks for this deep-thoughted teen! So I threw myself into religion, Christianity, the force I’d battled for years, but I needed something. I tried, I made that community my community. At least, I thought I had. But it was a lie. A sham. I admitted to myself and to my friends who I really was, a non-believer, caught in my own mind and my own thoughts, I had my own beliefs. And then, out of nowhere, I was alone. With my thoughts, of course. I had no people, no category, I was statistically the cheese that stands alone. I grew inward, I lost myself. In college, Judaism saved my life. The community, the niche I’d fought so hard to find, to no avail, was present and accounted for. I suddenly belonged, I had people, I had a history, I had a shared dream. I had a home.

When I came into my own on the internet, I was, once again, without friends, without a sense of community, without a place to call my own, even within myself. I was a hermit living in one of the major hot spots for 20-somethings in the U.S., Washington D.C. I even lived like a hermit, in a basement apartment, three steps down through a dirty old garden, and I was in a hole. Like a Hobbit. I could sleep until four in the afternoon without seeing a sliver of light. My loner habits continued, even after I moved to Chicago and became even more entrenched in my e-life: my blog, my Twitter, Yelp, they were my outlets. The internet saved my life. On more than one occasion. It pulled me out of my hole, after a bad breakup, and it threw me into a social scene of like-minded e-thinkers, and it made me whole again. I had e-stalkers, e-haters, and, most importantly, I had e-friends who became IRL friends who accompanied me on outings for prime pieces of meat at local steakhouses and indulged my love of thin-crust pizza. I was re-socialized. I was loved. I was welcomed. I was part of something, something huge and nebulous and beautiful. I was a part of the New Community. The 2.0 e-club. I made it. I branded myself, I became Chaviva. The Kvetching Editor.

On Jews

He has made a marvellous fight in this world, in all the ages; and has done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself, and be excused for it. The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greek and the Roman followed, and made a vast noise, and they are gone; other peoples have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished.

The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert and aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?